


Bedtime Stories

by AnnieVH



Series: Don't Come Back [17]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-10-01 10:52:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10188305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnieVH/pseuds/AnnieVH
Summary: A short insight into what Bae thinks of his family's current situation and his friendship with Graham.





	

 

“Are you cold?”

Baelfire opened his eyes to find Graham's silhouette on the edge of his bed.

“'cause if you're cold, we can move to the living room,” he said.

Bae clutched his covers closer to his chest. There were quite a bit of them. Graham's mother seemed to have thrown every available blanket they had on top of him, claiming that her son's bedroom was always freezing. It was true but, right now, Bae was feeling warm and cozy in his cot.

“It's fine,” he said.

“Do you want my bed? Like, trade, not-”

“Don't worry, the cot is fine.” He'd slept on a fair share of cots, improvised beds and floors in the last year, this was far from being the worst. “Your mom is cool.”

Ylva was a welcoming woman, with a sweet voice and who always seemed to be showing affection, in one way or another, much like his dad. Except that Graham didn't seem to mind it when his mother kissed his cheek or called him “sweetie” in front of his friends.

“Thanks. Your dad is cool, too.” Graham chuckled. “Though he's super overprotective.”

“Yeah, he's working on it.”

“Mom was overprotective, once. But she's better now.”

Bae turned on his back on the rickety cot to stare at the ceiling. Graham had glued phosphorescent stars there, the way they were arranged suggesting a constellation, rather than randomness. This room felt like home, despite the cold, and Bae caught himself wishing he had something like that again. It wasn't a stranger's bedroom that had been granted as a favor, or a cheap motel. It had posters on the walls, clothes that were meant to be picked up, even old toys that were no longer played with.

Somewhere in Boston, his old bedroom lied in wait, with all the memories of his past that he couldn't fit in a couple of bags. Dad had said they'd go back and get the rest of their things later, when they'd found a nice place to stay, but mom had never given them the chance. There was nowhere they could stay that she wouldn't find a way to kick them out of. Dad always said that what was important was that they were together and in one piece. Bae agreed for the most part, but it wasn't easy to live on practically nothing, to never really get the chance to develop your own identity anywhere.

The sketch book had been the greatest loss. He'd been working on it for two years and there were some drawings in there that he was really proud of. He wished he could've shown them to Belle, or Graham. It was always the first thing he shoved inside his bag when dad announced they were moving again, and in a hurry. Last time, dad had to pack their bags alone and, in his haste to get away, he'd forgotten all about it. Their last landlord had probably thrown it in the garbage after they were gone.

Dad had apologized over and over and Bae had told him that it was okay and it wasn't his fault but, secretly, he'd been heartbroken. It seemed that, every time they moved, a little bit of himself got lost or forgotten and, soon, there would be nothing left.

“Are you crying?” Graham asked, with such caution Bae didn't hear him at first.

When he did, he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and whispered, “No,” in the firmest voice he could muster. This had been a good day, he'd had fun at the dance and he was glad to be here, in a town that made him feel safe and with a friend. Which would make it that much worse the next time they had to move.

Baelfire dared to look at his friend. Graham seemed to be watching him. He did know. He'd been through all of this before.

“Graham?”

“Hm?”

“Is your dad in town?”

“No.”

He waited, but that seemed to be all the information his friend wanted to give. Still, Bae needed to know.

“But you see him, right? Like, you made this... divorce thing work.”

Graham turned to the other side and Bae thought his question would go unanswered, but then his friend muttered against the pillow, “He's not very nice.”

“My mom's not very nice either,” he confessed. “That's why we're here. She's not allowed to see me.”

He expected Graham to ask why and got ready to give him a vague answer.

“Dad's not allowed to see me either,” his friend said. “But I'm glad he's not.”

“Don't you miss him?”

“No,” was the quick and unwavering answer. “Do you miss your mom?”

Bae thought about that question. He didn't miss the chaos, or the many times he'd walked in on dad crying. He didn't miss the way dad smiled through the pain, or that every day felt like walking on eggshells. But he did miss what Ylva offered to Graham so freely and that Milah had never held back from him. His mother was trouble, but she was still his mother and, in her way, she loved him.

“Sometimes I do,” he said. “But I guess I shouldn't.”

He heard Graham sigh, like he understood what Bae was talking about, even though Bae didn't think he understood it himself.

Then, his friend said, “Divorce really sucks.”

Bae stared at the bright constellation above him, suddenly glad to be here, with someone who actually got it.

“It does,” he agreed, and it felt so good to say it out loud. “It really, really does.”

 

 


End file.
